


Nothing Else Matters

by AnxiousCoffee (TheHallowedAngel)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Caretaking, Caring Hank Anderson (Detroit: Become Human), Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor is an idiot, Drowning, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, Protective Hank Anderson, Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump, emeto, i guess?????, idk what other tags are needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 22:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18214484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHallowedAngel/pseuds/AnxiousCoffee
Summary: When Connor throws himself over a bridge and into a lake to go after a deviant, Hank is left to drag him back onto dry land and work everything out. You'll be surprised what lengths a father can go to for his son, nothing else even matters.





	Nothing Else Matters

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mess and I wrote it in like an hour and a half but here we go, enjoy. You read the tags, my friends, don't like don't read.

When Hank watched Connor throw himself over the bridge’s railings after the other android, he swear everything else around him just went silent. There were cars zipping by right before his eyes but he couldn’t hear them anymore, nor could he hear the thundering rain or the wind that seemed to be trying its best to throw him half a mile away.

Hank was sure he called out Connor’s name twice, maybe three times, but he couldn’t be sure, maybe he was making it up. Maybe he was making it all up, maybe if he closed his eyes and opened them again he would be in bed and Sumo would be laying across his feet and it would just be one of those whisky fueled nightmares he always seemed to fall into. But he blinked and rubbed his eyes and pinched his arms and nothing happened, the cars were still there and Connor was still somewhere over the other side of that railing and god damn it the world seemed to be doing everything it could to bring Hank Anderson to his knees. 

He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t lose another son.

As the noise started to fade back in, and without even putting a second thought to it, he threw himself into the lanes, weaving through the traffic and screaming into the wind for Connor to just wait for him. He was coming, he assured him, coming to save him. It was a foolish thing to say, of course, because Connor could probably swim and he didn’t even need to breath-...did he? Oh god, does he breath?

He’s probably drowning right now.

Hank dodged the last bumper with far too little space between him and the car, but he didn’t care, he just had to get to Connor. When he looked over the rail his heart sank into his boots, because there was no sign of that damned android anywhere, just water. Water and more water and even more water, that’s it. But he blinked and a mess of deep brown hair appeared near the muddy bank and his heart jumped all the way up into his throat; he swore he could taste the sidewalk.

Cursing, Hank looked around frantically for a way down onto the bank, and by some grace of goodness there were stairs maybe 200 yards to his left. He didn’t know where all the energy was coming from, Connor would probably tell him it was adrenaline or something, but he ran all the way there and all the way down them without even tripping once. It only struck him now that he wasn’t even sure if he could swim anymore, they say you’ll never forget but Hank wasn’t a exactly a spring chicken anymore and some days he couldn’t even remember his own damn name, but that wasn’t important.

He had to walk a ways up the grass verge but as soon as he was near enough, he threw himself into the water. It was a sudden shock, it was really fucking cold, but it didn’t stop him from getting to his boy and dragging him out, settling him on the grass as gently as he could and the crouching besides him.

“Connor?” he called, placing a hand on his cheek and shaking is head gently. There was no response and Hank bit his lip, taking him instead by the shoulders and shaking him roughly. He said his name again, but this time louder, in the hopes that this time he would get through somehow. Maybe he just had a lot of water in his ears and Hank just had to shout really loudly to get through. 

Or maybe he wasn’t alive- or switched on or whatever it was meant to be called when you’re talking about android. Hank bent to press an ear to Connor’s chest, just about making out a strained sort of mechanical whirring where the human heart would be. Hank remembered Connor telling him once, about the way the thirium is pumped around his body. Or, at least, he remembered enough to know that what he was hearing was not a good sound. 

What the hell was he meant to do? Does CPR even work on these things? HE needed to get this...this heart working right, somehow, or else Connor was going to shut down very fast. Hank swore and placed one hand atop the other over Connor’s chest and tried to push down, but he was met with far too much resistance. The next breath caught in his throat and he just held the rest in his lungs, squeezing his eyes shut and balling up one fist and, in a split second’s decision, raised his fist as high as he could before bringing down against Connor’s chest. 

There was a crack, a heavy, second long silence, and then a gasp for air as Connor shot up and almost cracked his head against Hank’s.

Wheezing and spluttering, Connor drew in one shallow breath after another before his chest convulsed with a wet cough, a gurgling sort of sound that made Hank want to hold his own chest in pain. Connor choked on water that was coming from whatever androids had instead of lungs, and then on blue blood as the coughing triggered a full-bodied heave that had Connor’s head snapping over his lap.

Hank couldn’t do anything else but hold him up as Connor retched over his lap, bringing up mouthfuls of thirium each time he did, waiting until he was done and leant heavily against him before he helped him to his feet. Connor could barely stand and Hank had to stop himself from hissing in pain as he found himself carrying more weight than his back could really support, but he kept hold of the kid- one arm around his back, the other hand holding onto the wrist of the arm thrown over his shoulders -and walked him all the way up those steps and all the way to the nearest taxi bay.

And the entire ride home was filled with that horrible, hacking cough and pitiful sounding wheezes, and with little, pained whines as each bump seamed to cause Connor more pain than he could cover up. Because he was quite good at that, Hank had found, good at hiding pain.

Hank tipped generously when he paid, given the amount of mud and water they left in the back, and lugged Connor up to the front door, struggling to pull out his keys and turn them in the lock before stuffing them back into a pocket and wrestling to open the door and walk them both in. He was going to have a lot to clean in the morning, but he didn’t care. Connor was still struggling far too much with his breathing and he was the only thing that mattered right now. 

“You’re going to be alright, kid, I’ve got you,” Hank said, speaking in a soft tone, as he dropped Connor onto the sofa. The android fussed quietly, voice crackling awfully as he tried to say something about making a mess and something else about the other guy getting away, but Hank shushed him.

“It’s fine, the covers will wash and someone else can catch that bastard. We need to get these clothes off you, okay? Warm you up. And we need to get some more blue blood in you, yeah? Just wait here for a moment” Hank hesitated before leaving him, but as soon as Connor nodded, he went off to gather a few things. 

The first stop was his bedroom, he grabbed one of his old hoodies and a pair of joggers out of his drawers before pulling the blankets off of his bed; Connor needed them more right now and he probably wasn’t going to be sleeping tonight anyways. Next it was the bathroom, and he stopped dead when he hear Connor coughing from the lounge, there was just something about how it sounded that made his stomach turn, he just sounded so sick. He grabbed a towel from the back of the door and the puke bucket from by the sink, feeling as though Connor would need it, and hurried to the kitchen; the last stop. Hank took a couple of the bottles of thirium from the door pocket and added them to the pile of things in his other arm, the handle of the bucket clutched in his hand under it all.

“I’m coming, son.” he murmured, setting everything down next to Connor and then starting to undress him. 

Connor didn’t put up much of a fight, barely having the strength in him to hold his own head up as Hank worked the sodden clothes from his body, toweling him dry bit by bit as he did before dressing him again. Hank’s clothes were huge on him, of course, but they were clean and dry and that’s all they were going for right now, and Connor was probably just grateful they didn’t smell like stale water. The hardest part was moving him over onto a dry part of the couch.

Then it came time to dry his hair, and Hank took his time to be as careful as he could, stopping a couple of times to rub his knuckles over Connor’s chest as he hacked, still trying to work the water out of his biocomponents. It took a little while, but it was worth it, and Hank wrapped the blankets around him as soon as he was sure Connor’s hair was dry. 

“You ready to drink some of this?” he asked, using a thumb to gesture to the bottles on the couch next to him. Connor took a moment to let the words register before he nodded, struggling to focus his eyes on Hank.

This bit took the most patience, first of all due to how hard it was to open these damn bottles, a secondly due to how out of it Connor was. He could only take small sips at a time otherwise he would choke on it and bring it all back up again with interest, Hank having to snatch up the bucket a couple of times so Connor could heave over it, wincing each time he heard liquid splash against the bottom of it. But it was all okay, he just had to use the towel to dry off his lips and chin and start again, each time he approached it with more care and control, and soon enough both bottles were empty and he was confident enough that Connor wasn’t going to die that he let him lay down to try and sleep.

Hank took a few minutes to change his own clothes before he lifted Conner’s head so he could sit down, then settling his check back down on his lap. The android seemed grateful for it, pulling the blankets tighter around himself and taking a deep, crackling breath. Hank stroked a thumb over his cheek and smiled softly, happy to hear some improvement in the way he was breathing and the way he was coughing. It only took a minute or two for him to settle enough to fall asleep, Hank able to feel him warming up slowly.

“You gave me a heart attack, kid,” he said, softly, watching him sleep and running fingers through Connor’s hair. “I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you today. Hell, I don’t even want to think about it.” he shook his head, working the memories of the past hour out of his mind.

His hip was starting to ache, his back was in bits, and he knew for a fact he was going to be feeling this in his knees for weeks to come but none of it mattered. Connor was alive, nothing else even compared right now.


End file.
